


Gin?

by EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid (kingkongkitty)



Series: Advent 2015 [4]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:52:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkongkitty/pseuds/EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid





	Gin?

“Gin?” Lewis tilted both the bottle and his head towards the taller man in askance. The two of them were leaning on each other – propping themselves up so they didn’t fall over.

Smith shook his head exaggeratedly as he sipped from the bottle he was holding. “Nah mate, whisky is where it’s at.” His voice was rough, both from the liquor and the truly terrible karaoke they’d been doing to entertain themselves.

The two of them had gotten together with several of the other Yogs as Kim and Hannah streamed Fright Night, joining them later. Now, at nearly three am, they were the last two in the pub, drunk out of their minds.

“Are you saying that whisky is better?” Lewis looked at him in mock annoyance, pushing an accusatory finger into the middle of his chest to make his point.

“Maybe I am.” Smith grinned at him, removing his finger by hooking it with two of his and pulling it away. “What are you gonna do about it… mate?”

“Um…” Lewis looked at him, stumped and head butted his shoulder softly as he thought. “…I’ll make you drink too much whisky.”

“Why?” Smith looked at him in confusion, mind foggy with inebriation as his head bobbed along to the tune playing in the background of the pub.

“Du-Duncan said that how you stop smokers…” Lewis picked up his nearly empty glass, knocking back the drink with barely a wince at the nearly 40% proof. 

“What, make them drink too much whisky?” It was too late – or rather early for his mind to grasp this method of stopping smokers.

“No, you make them smoke… never mind.” Lewis laid his head on the table as the room spun slowly, his face flushed from the drinks he’d had, the table the only place safe for him to lean on.

“Alright.” Smith staggered to his feet unsteadily, knowing Lewis wasn’t far from just ailing asleep at the table. “Lets get you home, mate. You’ve got a stream tomorrow.”

He pulled the smaller man away from the empty bottles and cans scattered over the table in front of them, the remnant of a night away from the Christmas streams, in favour of getting him safely to bed.


End file.
